


Echoes of the Past

by ncfan



Series: Middle-Earth and Númenor in the Second Age [12]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Gen, stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Celebrían is a child, Galadriel tells her about her family, bit by bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes of the Past

When she is a child, everyone in Celebrían's life, her mother, father, and cousin Celebrimbor, tell her stories. Stories are an integral part of children's lives; this much she understands from the (admittedly very few) other children of the Nenuial settlement, who also hear stories from their parents and other kin, who exchange stories with one another that they've heard from other people, or stories that come from their own limited experiences.

Celeborn tells her stories of Doriath, or wandering rootless in lands lit only by starlight, lands now drowned, lying countless leagues below the surface of the wide ocean. He speaks of the wind in the holly trees of Region. He recounts traveling over endless rolling hills, wading through grass, staring up at the stars and listening to the singers chant their endless hymns, wondering at the pinpricks of light overhead.

Celebrimbor has traveled far and wide throughout Ennor; he tells her tales of the places he's seen. His pale eyes go wide and bright as he relives those days. Dry, cracked lands where the sun is bright and rainy days are few and far between. He speaks of going to the far east, so far east that he sees the edge of the world in shadowy seas that drop off the edge of Arda. There lie the Gates of Morning, or so it is said; Celebrimbor admits that he has never seen them himself.

Galadriel is the only one who ever tells stories about people.

Celebrían likes her mother's stories best. Where her father and her cousin both studiously avoid telling her any stories about people (and she's noticed that they're avoiding it; whenever she asks one of them to tell her stories about their kin, they change the subject), Galadriel only ever tells her stories about people, about the people she knew, and loved, or did not love. She satisfies all of her daughter's curiosity about her family, telling her story after story after story.

Galadriel's earliest memory is the light of Laurelin flashing off of a ring her brother Finrod always wore. Finrod was a kind, brave person, she says, though to be honest, the first thing most people noticed about him was that he was extremely fond of jewelry; he was very rarely to be seen without a few pieces of jewelry on his person. Once you got past that, though, you could see his kind nature for what it was, and appreciate it.

"What happened to him?" Celebrían asks curiously. She has never met her uncle, after all; she'd like to meet him, if she can.

Celebrían watches as her mother's face goes from wistfully reminiscent to closed and overly-detached. "He was slain, during the First Age."

"…Oh."

Another of Galadriel's earliest memories is of watching her mother swim in the ocean off the coast of Alqualondë in the Undying Lands. Eärwen's long silver hair fanned out behind her in the rough waters, becoming entangled with seaweed and other flotsam. At the end of long days, when the sky had grown faint-silver. Galadriel learned the names of different shells and coastal birds from her mother, who could tell a shell and its mollusk from a glimmering shard, a bird from a feather.

Celebrían has never seen the sea (she is told that the Nenuial is somewhat similar, but remains unconvinced; you are _not_ supposed to be able to see the other side of the sea), and every tale she hears of it fills her with fascination. Her father says it must be the mariner-blood of the Falmari, for he has never been at all eager about the ocean. Either way, Celebrían is curious. Here is another one of her family members whom she has never met; what has become of her grandmother Eärwen?

"She remained across the Sea, in Aman. Eärwen did not follow the Noldor into exile."

The young girl nods, frowning slightly. Celebrían is aware that her mother is an Exile from the Undying Lands. So too is Celebrimbor, and every other Noldo living in Ennor is either an Exile or the descendant of Exiles; Celebrían herself fits into the latter category. The only exception is the very small number of Noldor and Vanyar who came to Ennor with the host of the Valar during the War of Wrath and decided to stay, though you could call their staying a sort of self-imposed Exile. Eärwen is a Teler. None of the Teleri who went to the Undying Lands ever returned to Ennor.

There comes one evening, late in autumn. Celebrían and Galadriel walk the shores of Nenuial alone, the former rubbing her arms, wincing against the cold, and the latter barely even noticing.

Something Celebrían has noticed about the Exiles is that many of them have no love at all for the cold. From what she understands, most of those are Edhil who survived the crossing of the Grinding Ice; Celebrimbor says that those who crossed the sea by ship are not affected so, except by personal inclination.

But Galadriel does not seem affected in the same way as the other survivors of the Ice crossing. She wears a thin summer dress, her sleeves falling away at the elbows. Her feet are clad in sandals. How can she not feel the cold? How can she walk like this, seemingly unaware of the bite of the wind and the chill in the air? Celebrían wonders about her mother, sometimes.

Galadriel looks out over the dark waters, her lips pursed. "My uncles said that deep pools are the best for fishing in."

Celebrían's eyebrows quirk upwards. She is never averse to her mother's stories, but usually Galadriel says naught of her kin unless Celebrían asks her first. But this piques her curiosity, so she asks, "Fingolfin and Fëanor said that?"

Galadriel scoffs, tossing her head. "Nolofinwë and Fëanáro? Never. I doubt that either of them ever consented to do something like fish with each other. I was speaking of Nendil and Élairo, my mother's younger brothers."

Nendil and Élairo are Olwë's sons, Galadriel's maternal uncles. They taught her and her brothers how to sail and how to fish, in the childhood summers they spent in Alqualondë. Galadriel speaks of Élairo's shimmering laugh and Nendil's warm, callused hands. Celebrían isn't sure why, but they remind her of her father.

Without any more prompting, Galadriel transitions into talking about her maternal grandparents. Olwë, King of the Lindar, is a more mild personality than his older brother, more easygoing and not so quick to take offense. He was an indulgent grandfather to Galadriel and her brothers when they were children; they were his only grandchildren, at least during the Years of the Trees.

Ránelindë the Queen was perhaps a bit more strict. Galadriel never specifies how, exactly, only says that her grandmother was more strict than Olwë was. Ránelindë is a surgeon of no small skill. She plied her skills more often when the Lindar lived still in Ennor, but there was still need for them in the Undying Lands.

Galadriel learned surgery from her grandmother. They spent many weeks and months together in hot, stuffy surgical theaters, examining animals and Ránelindë's old charts. Galadriel never had the opportunity to examine an Edhel in the Undying Lands. "And once I came here, it simply wasn't… permitted." There is a discernible note of bitterness in Galadriel's voice.

"What became of them?" Celebrían asks, and regrets immediately asking the question, for she knows the answer even without her mother telling her.

"They are Lindar, Celebrían. They remained in Aman."

The two of them, they walk in silence. Galadriel stares out over the dark waters pensively, and Celebrían does not say a word, for fear of what she might awaken.

-0-0-0-

It is spring again before Celebrían can work up the nerve to ask her mother to tell her anything more of her family. And honestly, Galadriel has been too busy.

In the winter, a group of Laegrim, survivors of the sinking of Beleriand, come to the Nenuial settlement, petitioning to be allowed to live there.

Celeborn spends much of his days negotiating with the Laegrim. He is the only authority they will recognize, much to Galadriel's chagrin. "You want a settlement completely devoid of Noldor? Go to Oropher," she mutters. "Do not come here only to start trouble."

Galadriel herself coordinates with the stonemasons and the thatchers and others, trying to arrange for housing to be built. For this, she can not have Celebrían underfoot, and bids her daughter to leave her be for now.

Celebrimbor and the rest of the smiths are sequestered away making nails and locks and bolts and all the other things new houses will need. He refuses to go with Celebrían to visit with the Laegrim, saying "I've no desire to make trouble for your parents." When asked to elaborate, he shoos her out of the forge.

Celebrían is largely left to her own devices during this time. Unlike many of the nobly-born children of Ennor, she has never had a nurse to look after her. Galadriel has insisted upon raising her after the fashion of the Amanyar: the mother looks after her children, the parents do not give their children over to full-time caregivers, and if they must give their children to another for any length of time, it is to one of their own kin. Celebrimbor often jokingly wonders if the only reason Galadriel and Celeborn allowed him to follow them to Nenuial was because they knew they would eventually have a child, and needed someone who wouldn't demand payment for looking after her.

Celebrían gets the impression that, in many ways, the upbringing she has been given has been quite traditionally Noldorin, despite her father being a Sinda. She has been allowed more freedom than the Noldor (or the Sindar, for that matter) allow their daughters. Most of the settlement's few children are boys, so Celebrían is not sure quite what this curtailed freedom entails, knowing only that she has been given a better education than what her mother received; Galadriel had to go looking for knowledge, all over the continent of Aman. Her mother tells Celebrían that she will give her a Quenya name when she comes of age. This is not exactly the custom when it comes to Amanyar mother-names, but still, the Úmanyar do not give their children but one name, and it is almost always the father who does the naming.

Just as the business with the Laegrim is starting to die down, just a few days before the new year, the High King pays the settlement a month-long visit.

Neither Celeborn nor Galadriel ever received any message from Gil-Galad saying that he was coming, and the High King's unexpected arrival puts the entirety of the settlement (especially the Laegrim new arrivals) in a state of noticeable consternation. Gil-Galad swears he sent a messenger ahead, and when that messenger did not return to Lindon, he had assumed the messenger was wintering in Nenuial.

"I am certain you did send a messenger," Celeborn remarks with a particularly grim face. "But there are many things that can happen to a messenger between Lindon and Nenuial."

Celebrimbor cranes his head, searching the party that accompanied Gil-Galad here; his brow furrows. "Elrond is not with you, Ereinion?" Celebrían frowns at the odd catch in his voice.

Gil-Galad shakes his head. "No, he elected to remain in Lindon."

An unexpected visit by the High King is just the sort of thing to put any settlement in a state of near-panic. This is not the King's court in Lindon; the cooks are not up to the task, and neither are the servants, not really. But once the initial shock wears off and Gil-Galad makes it clear that he's not disinclined to spending a plainer New Years' than what he usually experiences, it turns out to be an enjoyable time.

Gil-Galad is Celebrían's cousin, the son of his mother's brother, Orodreth, though Celebrían is to understand that he never knew his father. She likes him. The few times Celebrían has met her cousin, he has always been kind, behaving like a kinsman and not a King. There's a good-natured, dignified gravity in those brown eyes of his. He does not stand on ceremony with his family, nor with his friends.

Her parents and Celebrimbor like him, too. Gil-Galad is Galadriel's nephew, and she welcomes the presence of her kin. Celebrían has never known her father to actively dislike someone unless that person has given him offense. Celebrimbor was a childhood companion of Gil-Galad's in the refugee camps of Balar. Any meeting between the two of them is marked by affection.

But eventually, after a month of revels and merry-making, Gil-Galad returns to Lindon. Life in the settlement dies down to its normal state again. The snows melt and they have the usual problem of muddy roads causing accidents with carriages and wagons and carts. Finally, when the elanor flowers her father has labored so long over begin to bloom, Celebrían starts to ask again.

"Tell me stories about our family," she pleads.

Galadriel's hand pauses mid-stroke on her horse's neck. Narrow shafts of sunlight pour through the stable windows. She doesn't normally give her horse, a speckled gray stallion, a great deal of rigorous exercise, but judging from the clothes she's wearing and the gear she's put on her horse, Galadriel was planning on riding today.

Instead, she proceeds to remove the saddle and bridle from her stallion's back and head, and pats his back. The stallion starts to head back towards the paddock of his own accord. Galadriel follows suit, and with one gloved hand motions for Celebrían to join her.

"Have I ever told you about my cousin, Irissë?" Galadriel asks quietly, staring out over the gentle green hills and clumps of trees and bushes making up the paddock.

This is indeed a new name. Celebrían shakes her head, eyes shining with curiosity. Galadriel looks at her, lips pursed and eyes looking over her daughter's face as though trying to decide what to say, before she begins.

Like Galadriel, Irissë received an epithet, Aredhel, which she used as her Sindarin name in place of the Sindarin translation of her Quenya father-name. Aredhel loved very much to hunt and ride horses; Aredhel would have given Galadriel's horse far more exercise than she does.

She was restless, always restless; she always needed to be doing something, always needed activity, movement. She had a strong sense of being trapped in her life in Aman; Galadriel speculates that Aredhel decided to go to Ennor not only to follow her family, but to find wide, open lands in which to live. Celebrían can't help but think that she sounds rather like Galadriel, in that.

Aredhel could be hard, Galadriel says. She could be very hard, and very sharp. The crossing of the Ice only made her harder, suffering sharpening her edges to deadly keenness. But she was a _good_ person, Galadriel insists, as though this is in doubt. She cared deeply for her loved ones and would protect them to the last.

"She was your friend?" Celebrían asks quietly.

Galadriel nods, watching the stallion as he grazes lazily, soaking up the light of Anor. "Yes, she was. Not at first, but we first grew close on the Helcaraxë."

"What became of her?"

"She was slain," Galadriel says shortly.

"How?" Celebrían knows that nissi of royal birth were kept away from battle during the First Age; Aredhel would not have had the opportunity to die in battle.

But Galadriel will not say. No matter how Celebrían presses, she will not say, and eventually tells her to leave it, tossing her head agitatedly and squeezing her eyes shut.

Celebrían does not leave it. Instead, she goes to the library. To hear the librarian talk, it is not the equal of the library in Mithlond, but there are several records from the First Age contained there, and Celebrían knows exactly where they are.

It takes a while before she can find what she's looking for. Aredhel does not possess the fame dubiously attested to the likes of Lúthien, Fëanor and Fingon; for all that she is a member of the House of Finwë, she is somewhat more obscure than most of them. But eventually, Celebrían does find the tale of Aredhel's death. She reads the tale, and what has been pieced together of the final decades of Aredhel's life, leading up to her death. Celebrían does not understand most of it. What she does understand keeps her from sleeping soundly for several nights afterwards.

The next is Idril. Galadriel starts by explaining that Idril is Aredhel's niece and that she looked after her after her mother died. Celebrían wonders just how long Galadriel has been thinking about her cousin, in the three days it's been since they spoke about her, for her to start that way.

Galadriel admits that she's not seen Idril since she was a very young adult. Most of what she knows of Idril's adult life comes from chronicles and histories written after the fact, and Galadriel says also that she does not "trust the word of chroniclers as regards to recording the personalities of the people they speak of, nor their essence."

She describes a bright, vivacious young adult, perhaps dissatisfied with her life in the same way that her aunt was, but Idril's dissatisfaction was more nebulous, harder to pick up on and harder to trace. Galadriel taught Idril how to sew when the Noldor still all dwelt together by the shores of Lake Mithrim; when Galadriel last saw her, in Vinyamar, Idril showed her some of her work, embroidery mostly, but also a few pieces of clothing knitted together. Galadriel's green eyes glaze over as she speaking of thinking about Idril and Aredhel sometimes, after they followed Turgon to Gondolin. She would wonder what had become of them, if they were happy, suspecting that neither of them were.

"And… what became of Idril."

"She disappeared at sea with her husband, in the latter decades of the First Age."

Later, Celebrían will discover that it is a tradition among the Edain that Idril and her husband Tuor reached the Undying Lands, and that rather than being killed for defying the bans against the Noldor and Men, they were permitted to stay in the Undying Lands, and Tuor was given the immortality of the Edhil. From all she has ever heard from her mother concerning the Valar, it seems unlikely that they would be moved to mercy in such a way, but Celebrían decides she likes this story better than the idea that they both perished.

"Ereinion is not your only cousin, you know."

Galadriel sits leaning back against a tree trunk, twirling a golden elanor flower in her hands. "Artaresto had another child," she murmurs, staring at the glimmering blossom in her hands. "Roughly three hundred years before Ereinion was born, Artaresto and Meresír had a daughter named Finduilas."

Orodreth (Celebrían may not speak Quenya, but she has heard her mother use Quenya names often enough to know who is who) was the youngest of Galadriel's older brothers. Most of the time, Orodreth was possessed of a quiet, mild personality, and was slow to anger, but when moved to anger, he could be quite dangerous. "The wise did not attempt to anger him at all."

Finduilas was his and Meresír's daughter. She bore the fair hair and gray eyes of her father, unlike Gil-Galad, who is supposed to more closely resemble their mother. But where Orodreth's hair was pale and ashen, Finduilas's was as golden as the light of Anor over the hills of Eriador on summer mornings. She was often clad in gold or violet. Finduilas was kindly, and seemingly mild as her father was, but there was a noticeable formidable streak lying not far beneath the surface. She had dwelled in Nargothrond since childhood, and had been brought up by Finrod, almost as he would have done his own child. Finduilas had been her father and her uncle's right hand in many manners.

But Orodreth and Finduilas are no more. They perished in the Fall of Nargothrond; this, Celebrían already knew. She has learned something of importance, she supposes. None of the histories ever describe Finduilas or formidable; none of them record that she was brought up by her uncle, nor that she was the right hand of two Kings of Nargothrond. What the histories seem most intent on recording of Finduilas is that she was beautiful, and inconstant.

As spring begins to sink into summer, Celeborn is called to Lindon, the council of the King. Celeborn may not be a Noldo, but he has still settled in Eriador, and Gil-Galad values his advice.

On the first night that Celeborn is away, Celebrían insists on being allowed to sleep with her mother. She knows that she is too old for this, and the look Galadriel gives her down the bridge of her nose does indeed make her feel ashamed of herself, but she still insists. She does not like it when her father is away, not for any reason, not for any length of time.

"Tell me a story?"

"I have never told you of Melian, the Queen of Doriath, have I?"

Celebrían shakes her head. She is lying in bed next to her mother; the night is warm, so the coverlet has been pushed back and they rest only under the bed sheet. The shutters and the glass panes on the windows have been left wide open. Celebrían has heard of Doriath, heard of it from history and from her father's stories. But Celeborn never spoke of anyone he knew in Doriath, and most of what she has learned so far from history is simply the borders of Doriath in sunken Beleriand.

"Well, what you must first understand of Melian was that she is not an Elda, not one of the children of Ilúvatar. Melian the Queen is a Maia."

"One of the Ainur?" Celebrían interjects, her eyes wide.

Galadriel nods. "Yes, Melian was of the Ainur, a singer in the Ainulindalë, when the world was sung into being. She was also the Queen of Doriath, Thingol's wife and Lúthien Tinúviel's mother. When I first came to live in Doriath, she took me on as a student of sorts.

"From Melian, I learned much of magic, and wisdom. She…" Galadriel pauses, staring straight across the room. She seems to struggle for words. "…She was very wise. And very kind."

"Where is she now?"

Galadriel shuts her eyes. "After Thingol was slain by the Dwarves, Melian fell into a deep silence. When she wakened from her silence, she abandoned Doriath, and presumably returned to Aman. The barrier of protection and enchantment she had woven failed, and Doriath was left vulnerable to her enemies."

Celebrían begins to notice a pattern to her mother's stories.

-0-0-0-

The next morning, the sun is shining through gaps in burgeoning gray storm clouds, and Celebrían asks her mother to tell her something of Lúthien. "Something new," she begs. Much is made of the tale of Beren and Lúthien, much is made of Lúthien's beauty and her role in the Lay of Leithian. For Galadriel to have dwelled in Doriath, for Galadriel to have been a student of Melian, she had to have known Lúthien, Melian's daughter. Surely she must know something that isn't present in the Lay of Leithian.

Galadriel's mouth quirks in a sharp-edged smile. "Well, I am glad that you do not ask me to tell you how beautiful she was. I remember watching Lúthien squirm every time someone complimented her looks."

Galadriel does not speak of Lúthien's beauty. She does not speak of her relationship with Beren, nor of her decision to give up the immortality of the Edhil. She speaks of Lúthien's skill as a dancer. She was quick, and lithe, with strong, supple muscles made only stronger by her love of dancing and her exuberance in the activity. She speaks of Lúthien's mounting discomfort with her father's isolationist policies and seeming carelessness towards the fates of everyone living in Beleriand, outside of Doriath's borders.

Her mother's voice cracks in a laugh as she remarks, "And I remember, when she was trying to teach Nimloth how to dance—"

"Who is Nimloth?" Celebrían breaks in curiously.

At that, Galadriel raises her eyebrows and stares quizzically at her daughter. "Your father never told you?"

Then she is someone Celeborn knew, then? "No, he didn't."

Galadriel's lips grow thin, her gaze far-away. "Nimloth was your cousin, the same as Ereinion and Finduilas. She was the daughter of your father's younger brother Galathil, and his wife Thínloth. Nimloth was born some years after I came to dwell in Doriath. She often trailed after Lúthien and I when she was a little girl. I was saying that when Lúthien tried to teach her how to dance, Nimloth kept growing dizzy." A faint, fond smile flickers over her mouth. "She would fall to the ground and frown at us. Lúthien decided that she lacked the proper sense of balance to be a dancer; Daeron just said that she was clumsy."

"And Nimloth…" Celebrían trails off tentatively. Galadriel has been referring to Nimloth in the past tense this whole time; she has a feeling that she knows where this is going.

"Nimloth was slain during the second sack of Menegroth."

Somehow, she had been expecting that.

Galadriel keeps a number of old maps, specifically old maps of Beleriand from the First Age before it sank. Studying maps is not exactly Celebrían's favorite thing to do, but she humors her mother, and lets her show her kingdoms and mountain ranges and rivers that she will never see, for as long as she lives.

"This is Dorthonion," Galadriel says, pointing to a northern region of Beleriand nearly entirely encircled by mountains. "It was held by my brothers Angaráto and Aikanáro until their deaths during the Dagor Bragollach."

Galadriel tells Celebrían that Aegnor was in love with Andreth, an Adan woman whom he never married on account of advice Finrod gave him, the state of war, and his own doubts concerning the divergent fates of Edhil and Edain—a decision that Galadriel considers "regrettable."

Angrod was wed to Eldalótë, a Noldo who remained in the Undying Lands; they had no children. He was the most visibly short-tempered of all of Finarfin's children, and the shortest as well—he was shorter even than his sister. He had been very fond of their cousin Argon, Fingolfin's youngest child, who was killed in the Battle of the Lammoth.

"This is where we buried him." Galadriel points out a spot on the southern coast of the Lammoth, off the shores of the Firth of Drengist. "His father would visit the gravesite from time to time."

Next, she slides her finger along the map towards an area labeled 'Dor-lómin.' "This was Dor-lómin, a land in the south of Hithlum governed over by my cousin Findekáno. After his father was killed in the Bragollach and he took over the High Kingship from him, Findekáno removed to Barad Eithel in the east of Hithlum. Findekáno was slain in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad; after which Turukáno became High King over the Noldor."

Galadriel's long ring finger comes to rest on a small gap in the Echoriath, named 'Gondolin.' "This is Ondolindë, the hidden kingdom." Celebrían notices that her use of Quenya names for locations is noticeably inconsistent; she's used the Quenya name for Gondolin, but used the Sindarin names for Dor-lómin and Hithlum. "When Turukáno moved his people there he made it his policy that no one would be allowed in or out, on pains of death."

Celebrían raises her eyebrows. "How well did that work?" She tries to imagine how she would respond if she was not allowed to leave the Nenuial settlement, even to go into the countryside. She tries to imagine how _Galadriel_ would respond to such a thing, and nearly collapses in hysterical laughter.

A long sheet of gold-silver hair falls over Galadriel's face, obscuring it from view. "I am to understand that the people of Ondolindë were not entirely happy with this. However, the secrecy of Ondolindë was so complete that, for the entire time that it existed, no one in the outside world had any idea where it was. The only reason we can pinpoint its location on a map today is thanks to the work of Itarillë and Pengolodh in the Havens of Sirion." She pauses, brushing her hair out of her face and frowning down at the dot marked 'Gondolin.' "Turukáno himself perished in the Fall of Ondolindë. It is said that he would not be removed from the city he had built.

"Turukáno modeled Ondolindë after Tirion upon Túna. I am told that in many ways, Ondolindë was nearly identical to Tirion." Galadriel smiles a pondering, preoccupied smile. "I think he regretted coming here the most of any of us."

The silence that rises between them and the unreadable expression on Galadriel's face is draining and charged; it makes Celebrían squirm. She feels as though there are people trying to sit down on the bench between her and her mother, but instead of being composed of flesh, they are all smoke and night air, and yet far heavier than any flesh-and-blood person could ever be. The silence must be broken, so Celebrían points to Hithlum, and stares up at her mother's face.

"Hithlum was governed over by Nolofinwë, until his death."

"And Fingolfin was the first High King of the Noldor in Ennor?" Celebrían asks, grateful to move the subject away from Gondolin and Turgon.

Galadriel shakes her head. "No, he was the fourth. The first was Fëanáro. After he died, his first son, Maitimo, was High King for a brief time. When Maitimo was captured by the Enemy, Fëanáro's second son Makalaurë ruled over the Noldor until Nolofinwë took over."

"And Fingolfin was slain during the Dagor Bragollach." Celebrían feels her stomach sink.

Her mother nods, holding her head very high, staring across the room, her gaze far-away. "Nolofinwë challenged our great Enemy to a duel. He succeeded in wounding him, but ultimately was struck down, and crushed beneath the Enemy's foot. Thorondor, King of the Eagles, bore Nolofinwë's body back to Ondolindë, where Turukáno built a tomb for him."

As if this talk has grown to be too much even for Galadriel, she shifts the subject away to her aunts, four nissi Celebrían has never met. There was Lalwen, the only one of Galadriel's aunts to make the journey to Ennor. Galadriel did not know her very well. When they all dwelled in the Undying Lands, Lalwen had wed outside of the nobility, and had very little contact with her family, aside from her brother Fingolfin. When they came to Ennor, Lalwen still held herself very remote from her nieces and nephews; she dwelled with Fingolfin in Barad Eithel, until her death during the Siege of Angband.

Findis is the eldest of Indis's children, and the only one of Finwë's children never to countenance the idea of leaving the Undying Lands. There are many in Ennor who, having never seen her, speculate that Findis is golden-haired like her mother. Instead, Galadriel says that Findis is tall and black-haired, with coal-gray eyes, and remarks, an odd look in her eyes, that she alone had the hawk-shaped nose of her father Finwë; Celebrían wonders why she said that, but doesn't ask. Findis is very quiet, she says, very quiet, and very reserved; rarely does she ever let anything slip past the detached mask of her face.

Anairë is Fingolfin's wife. She is described as anxious, uncomfortable in her skin, unable to relate with any of her children, especially not her daughter Aredhel and youngest son Argon, overly attached to Galadriel's mother Eärwen. Nerdanel is Fëanor's wife. She is a sculptor of such prodigious skill that Galadriel has on more than one occasion, for just a moment, taken one of her aunt's sculptures for an actual person.

At Celebrían's prompting, Galadriel then moves to speaking of the nissi who wed or were engaged to her brothers and cousins.

Andreth Galadriel did not know; all she can say of her is that she was called Saelind, 'Wise-heart', by the Edhil who knew her, and it can be assumed that she was quite learned for an Adan woman of her time.

Meresír was Orodreth's common-law wife, a Sinda of Doriath. She was a friend also of Celeborn's, and that is primarily how Galadriel knew her. Galadriel remembers her as bright and clever, a bit sharp-tongued from time to time, but very loyal to Orodreth. Galadriel never had the opportunity to witness her interacting with her son, and Gil-Galad was sent to Balar very soon after his birth, but Meresír was a very loving mother to her daughter, demonstrably loving on the few occasions that she and Finduilas were able to spend significant amounts of time together. She was slain in the fall of Minas Tirith.

Eldalótë, as already explained, stayed behind in the Undying Lands. Her and Angrod's parting was not a happy one; in fact, they parted on _very_ bad terms. If ever they meet again, Galadriel confesses to being unsure of just how Eldalótë will receive her husband, unsure of whether they will be able to reconcile at all.

Amarië is ("Or was; she may have chosen to have the betrothal annulled") Finrod's betrothed, a Vanya who served as lady-in-waiting to Indis during the Years of the Trees. Galadriel describes her as "intelligent and quick-witted, like all of the nissi my brothers became involved with; it was something of a pattern with them." Amarië refused to follow Finrod to Ennor, and Finrod in turn refused to ever do so much as look at another nís once he was separated from his betrothed. "I spoke to him about it once," Galadriel admits, a rather drained look coming over her face. "I said to him 'How can you be sure that she has been as constant as you?' But he would not budge. The separation caused him great pain, I think."

Elenwë was Turgon's wife, the only Edhel of pure Vanyarin descent to join the Noldor in their Flight. However, she did not long survive this decision; she drowned during the crossing of the Grinding Ice. Elenwë was another lady-in-waiting of Indis, though she left her mistress's service after marrying. She was much involved in Aredhel and Argon's lives, was very close to them both. However, while Turgon and Finrod were great friends, Galadriel did not know Elenwë "as well as I would have liked."

Telpalma is Curufin's wife, and Celebrimbor's mother. Galadriel was present for Curufin and Telpalma's wedding, but can say no more about Telpalma; she and Curufin met and were wed during Fëanor's exile to Formenos, and Galadriel did not visit Formenos often.

Ilmanis, referred to as Gildis in Sindarin documents, though she never went by the name in daily life, was Maglor's wife. She was a harpist like her husband, slim and quiet and pale. She alternated between seeming very meek, and very strong-willed, was able to transition between the two with what Galadriel considers startling ease. She was loyal to her husband above all others, would follow him anywhere. "She was slain during the Second Kinslaying," Galadriel tells her daughter. There is a deeply ambivalent look on her face, guarded and secretive. "I think that her death may have contributed to…"

"To what?" Celebrían presses.

Galadriel waves a hand. "Later, Celebrían," she says dismissively.

-0-0-0-

It is a humid, muggy summer's evening, when the crickets are chirping, stray cats are mewling at the fishermen for fish to eat, and many of the Edhil have taken to the lake to cool off before going to sleep, when Galadriel finally speaks of her father.

"Your father has sent word from Lindon," Galadriel remarks, leaning against a tree while Celebrían wrings out her long, silver hair. "He expects to be able to return by autumn."

"What about Grandfather?"

Galadriel shoots her a very particular look, eyebrows raised, and Celebrían feels a red flush start to crawl up her neck, but she will not be dissuaded, not this time. "Your father, I mean," Celebrían probes cautiously. "You rarely ever speak of him, Mother, and I have been curious…"

For a long time, Galadriel says nothing, and Celebrían starts to suspect that her mother might even simply turn around and walk back to the settlement without saying anything, as she sometimes does when Celebrían has managed to say something that she especially does not wish to respond to. Then, she sighs, and stares up at the stars, mouthing words Celebrían can not understand. Then: "My father is…"

As a little girl, Galadriel thought her father could do no wrong. She noticed nothing, not a thing, about the way he interacted with his siblings, about the way he interacted with others in general, about the way he behaved and the way he was perceived.

However, as Galadriel grew older, she noticed more. She noticed that her father was thought of as a joke by many among the Noldor, including his own brothers; at the very least, neither Fëanor nor Fingolfin seemed to consider him a serious threat in their struggle over the succession. Finarfin seemed far more content to have things happen to him than he was to make things happen. For Galadriel, who had to struggle and strive to be taken seriously even for a short time by her male kin, who had to struggle and strive to make things happen in her life, it was galling to watch.

And it was the same during the Revolt. Finarfin did not particularly want to leave the Undying Lands. He cared nothing for revenge against the Enemy, nor for the return of the Silmarils to Fëanor's hands. He had no motive to leave the Undying Lands, did not particularly _want_ to leave, and yet he chose to follow his brothers when Fëanor and his sons made it clear that they would leave.

Galadriel suspects that Finarfin's decision to turn back towards Eldamar when the Doom of Mandos was probably the first major decision he had made in his life since deciding to marry Eärwen. Fëanor called him a coward for choosing to turn back, but Galadriel admits (turning her head away and shutting her eyes, jaw set) that she felt respect for her father for the first time in her life, when he turned back, refusing to follow Fëanor any further. "For possibly the first time in his life, he did not let others dictate his fate to him."

Finarfin came with the Host of the Valar during the War of Wrath, and was sent, along with all of the highest-ranking nobles of the Amanyar, to the Isle of Balar for his own safety. There, Galadriel met with her father again. He had become the High King over the Noldor remaining in the Undying Lands, King over a greatly diminished people and a nearly empty city. He seemed at best uncomfortable in his role as King, even though by that time he had had more than five hundred years to grow accustomed to the role. "Let me tell you, Celebrían: An Elda who is five hundred years old may be considered young by some, but five hundred years of being King is _still_ five hundred years of being King."

Early in the Second Age, when the Noldor who had come with the Host of the Valar at last began to return to the Undying Lands, Finarfin asked his daughter to return him with him. She refused.

There are others too, whom Galadriel remembers with ambivalence.

There are her paternal grandparents, Indis and Finwë. There is Indis, who much like Finarfin has never really been an active player in the events going on around her, not since she married Finwë. There is Finwë, entirely too permissive when it came to his eldest son, entirely oblivious to the way his own behavior only made the feud between Fëanor and Fingolfin more bitter than it already was.

There are the Kings of Doriath as well. Galadriel remembers Thingol as being utterly immovable when he had made his mind up on something, even if being immovable meant that hundreds, even thousands would die as the result of his neglect. Both he and Dior fell prey to the noxious influence of the Silmaril that Beren cut from Morgoth's crown. "When Fëanáro's sons sent missives demanding the return of the Silmaril, I counseled Dior to give it to them. 'It had caused us nothing but grief', I told him. 'It has cost us the life of Thingol, and the lives of many Sindar. It has no value. It is accursed.' Dior did not listen. He was as enraptured with the Silmaril as Thingol had been. As a result, we were forced to leave Doriath behind us when the Kinslayers fell upon Menegroth."

Then, there is Fëanor and his sons.

To hear Galadriel speak, Fëanor had almost no redeeming qualities; it is clear that she holds him in contempt, holds great enmity in her heart for him. The kindest thing she can say of him is that he was brilliant, and that even at his worst, he was a devoted father and grandfather.

But that is all she can say of him that is said with kindness. Fëanor was fell and fey. Fëanor led them all to destruction. Fëanor abandoned them in Araman. Fëanor meant for them all to die. He would have let all the world burn in the ravaging fire of his spirit, if it meant that his Silmarils would be returned to his hands.

When she speaks of Celegorm and Curufin, there is still anger enough. She describes them as unrepentant betrayers whose machinations led to Finrod's horrible death. Celegorm was horribly callous and insensitive to the pain of others, caring only for what he wanted. Curufin was calculating, scheming, just as callous as his brother and twice as cunning. As Celebrían listens to Galadriel describe Curufin, she hears described someone she can not believe is Celebrimbor's father, can not believe is the father of kind, good-natured Celebrimbor. In fact, even Celebrimbor was disgusted by Curufin's behavior in Nargothrond, so disgusted that he repudiated his father and his house, and had no further contact with them after Celegorm and Curufin were cast out. This is not something Celebrimbor has ever told Celebrían; in fact, he has never spoken of his family at all.

But Celegorm and Curufin are the only ones Galadriel can muster such ire over. As she speaks of Fëanor's other sons, the anger in Galadriel's voice slowly begins to bleed into weariness.

Amrod and Amras, the two youngest, were twins, nearly identical in appearance, except that as they grew Amrod's hair became a darker red than Amras's. They were avid hunters, and did everything together. "There is a fiction that has arisen, some strange sort of embellishment—some of the historians claim that one of the twins died in the ship-burning at Losgar. Opinions tend to vary on which one." Galadriel tosses her head, folding her arms across her chest. Her brow furrows and a rather exasperated look comes over her face. "I tell you that neither of the Ambarussa died at Losgar. The intention of those who say otherwise appears to have been to claim that Fëanáro faced some sort of poetic justice as the result of his actions. As though _dying_ wasn't justice enough," she added in an undertone.

Caranthir was short-tempered—he and Angrod butted heads on more than one occasion. He was also, without a doubt, the most solitary of Fëanor's sons. When the unoccupied lands of Beleriand were first being divided amongst the lords of the Noldor, Maedhros and Maglor lived separately from all of their kin (though Maglor did live with his wife) out of necessity, but Caranthir chose to rule alone, separate from all of his brothers. Galadriel does say, however, a strange look on her face, that in spite of his bad temper, he did have a sense of honor, and a very consistent sense of honor at that, which is more than can be said for either Celegorm or Curufin.

Maedhros could usually be trusted to keep his younger brothers in line, though in the case of Celegorm and Curufin's conduct in Nargothrond, they were simply too far away for that to be feasible. Maedhros, the oldest, was the most level-headed of Fëanor's sons, the most responsible, the most reasonable. But at the same time, it was he who led his brothers in the Second and Third Kinslayings, he who led Maglor when they attempted to steal back the Silmarils at the end of the First Age.

Maglor, the second son, is usually described as the gentlest of Fëanor's sons. "That is true enough, I suppose, if you consider the fact that he was the slowest to violence of the seven." He is also described as being the most similar in temperament to his mother. "Also true. But if Makalaurë is like Nerdanel in anything, he is like her in anger." Maglor, in anger, burns cold instead of hot, becomes cold and incisive, and is just as ruthless as his brothers, but more measured. He slew Uldor the betrayer of his people during the Nirnaeth. But in an act of mercy, he also kept Elwing's sons alive after the Third Kinslaying, choosing eventually to foster them as his own children instead of keeping them simply as hostages.

Celegorm and Curufin and Caranthir were all slain during the Second Kinslaying, along with Maglor's wife. Amrod and Amras fell during the Third Kinslaying. Maedhros took his own life at the end of the First Age, when the Silmaril he held rejected his touch and he realized that all he had done had been for nothing.

"And Maglor?"

Galadriel seems to droop, her shoulders sagging. Her brow draws up, and she stares over the waters of the Nenuial. "He threw the Silmaril that burned him into the Sundering Sea." Her voice is detached, emotionless, brittle. "There are those who say he cast himself into the sea after it, but he did not. Makalaurë fled down the shore. He has not been seen since. He may have taken his own life or been killed since then; I can not say. No one can say. There are no tales that tell of Makalaurë's fate, Celebrían. He has passed out of history."

And what a horrible loneliness there must be, in passing out of history, Celebrían can not help but think.

Galadriel walks away from her resting place, and stands at the shores of the lake, her radiant hair fanning out behind her in the wind. Celebrían stands behind her on the stony shore, running her hands through her own wet hair. She stares at her mother's back, all her breath catching in her chest.

There is a pattern to her mother's tales. She noticed it long ago, and notices it again now. Of everyone Galadriel speaks, there is separation. There is either the separation of death, or of the Sundering Sea standing between her and them. Everyone in Galadriel's family, aside from Celeborn, Gil-Galad, Celebrimbor, and Celebrían herself, is either dead, or gone. There is no one else.

What must Galadriel be thinking, as she stands there, remembering the past, remembering her once-large family, now reduced to so very few? To Celebrían, it is a very lonely feeling, as though she is standing in a deserted field, or a deserted forest. There's no one else for miles around, and no matter how far she walks, she never sees another living soul. That's the kind of loneliness that must be comparable with the loneliness of having a large family reduced to a scant handful of close kin.

The wind blows through the rolling hills, through the sparse trees. The happy shrieks of swimmers seems to grow far away. Celebrían thinks about the past, and everything seems so very far away.

**Author's Note:**

> Nolofinwë—Fingolfin  
> Fëanáro—Fëanor  
> Irissë—Aredhel  
> Artaresto—Orodreth  
> Angaráto—Angrod  
> Aikanáro—Aegnor  
> Findekáno—Fingon  
> Turukáno—Turgon  
> Itarillë—Idril  
> Maitimo—Maedhros  
> Makalaurë—Maglor
> 
> Ennor—Middle-Earth (Sindarin)  
> Falmari— those among the Teleri who completed the journey to Aman; the name is derived from the Quenya falma, '[crested] wave.'  
> Edhil—Elves (singular: Edhel) (Sindarin)  
> Lindar— 'Singers'; the name the Teleri of Aman use to refer to themselves (Quenya)  
> Laegrim—the Green-Elves of Ossiriand, a division of the Nandor (singular: Laegel) (plural: Laegil; Laegrim is class-plural term) (Sindarin)  
> Amanyar—'Those of Aman', those Elves who did make the journey to Aman, or were born there  
> Úmanyar—'Those not of Aman', those Elves who did not make the journey to Aman, and/or were not born there  
> Anor—the Sindarin name for the Sun (Sindarin)  
> Nissi—women (singular: nís)  
> Edain—Men, specifically men of the three houses of the Edain, who stood alongside the Elves during the First Age (singular: Adan) (Sindarin)  
> Ondolindë—'Stone Song', the original Quenya name of Gondolin (Quenya)


End file.
